


Bitter Truth

by MaryiaSnape, Nami_Okami



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Ash is shortened from Ashtoreth, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is Not Innocent (Good Omens), Aziraphale is So Done (Good Omens), Aziraphale is a Tease (Good Omens), Aziraphale wants Crowley to be rough, Blessings, Body Worship, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Canon is bended here, Cock Rings, Confessions, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Crying, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Established Relationship, F/M, Female version of Aziraphale is called Fell in this story, Fencing, Flashbacks, Grey wings as a honeymoon present, Halo Kink, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Internal voices of the other's form, Jealousy, Knotting, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, Love Bites, M/M, Making an Effort (Good Omens), Marking, Multi, Orgasm Control, Possessive Sex, Praise Kink, Roughness, Scratching, Shameless Smut, Slight OOC, Smut, Soft Crowley (Good Omens), They are married, Top Crowley (Good Omens), Topping from the Bottom, Use of Powers, almost dark Crowley, beta is welcomed, drinking some magical liquid, experimental psychology, experimental remedy, honorifics usage, inappropriate use of the halo, slight AU, taken from the roleplay, the Angel's sandwich
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:07:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26679472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryiaSnape/pseuds/MaryiaSnape, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nami_Okami/pseuds/Nami_Okami
Summary: When you have some family issues you need to visit the therapist. Especially when he has some experimental techniques.Basically, Aziraphale wants Crowley to be rough with him. So, they both went for drinking some mixture of liquids to reveal their desires.Of course, it worked. Perfectly)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	Bitter Truth

**Author's Note:**

> So, this work is just a scene from the role play we have in some chat form, based on the Good Omen's environment. First of all, it was a way of communication around the fans, but then it becomes roles and parts and so many scenes out and beyond of the canon basics.  
> Finally, we want to share.  
> There is no co-author for this work - both of us are authors. One person is writing on the angel's behalve and another one is responsible for the demon.  
> Raphael is NOT Crowley. He is in this universe his younger brother, still (questionably) an angel.  
> Yes, their wings are grey, because they are married in this story.
> 
> The language can be a little bit strange, cause we are both native russian speakers, so.. be gentle. Also some references to the fandom can be found through the text.
> 
> *if anyone wants to beta this - please contact us

They had quarrels before, but this time was different. Aziraphale was upset not because of the mistrust from Crowley’s side, but mostly because of mutual distrust of one another. 

_Quite the contrary - we should draw the right lessons, overcome our mutual distrust and redouble our efforts. That’s what partners do, right?_

This time they decided to talk with someone who could help. Archangel Raphael listened carefully to both sides. The old joke about an angel and a demon living under the same roof was no longer new for the G-O-D chancellery because Raphael, neither did Aziraphale, accepted the move-in offer from demon Leviathan. This, in turn, gave Crowley a joke if Raphael can't get to the phone, that was because Leviathan ate his face.

“Okay, well, don't be such a baby, darling.” Raphael smiles at his brother, Crowley, avoiding to give Aziraphale a concerned look.

Crowley sighs. “I am here because of _him_ , not because I missed **_you_**. Are we clear, _brother_?”

“Yes, definitely.” Raphael sits in silence for a while. Then he reaches Crowley handing him a bottle of a flickering liquid. “Against fear, there is only one remedy. Leviathan gave it to me for exigencies. I think it’s your turn to face your **_real_ ** problems, boys. But you can take a rest for a while.”

And they did. 

Angel gave up on this rest first. He desperately needed to speak with his demon. Even though they lived together, Aziraphale started his own law firm with two comfortable floors and occasionally spent evenings with several cases. He sends a short message to Crowley.

_"Can we talk?"_

Pushes aside weighty case folders. That was a matter of time when the demon would find him. A soft snap turns off the light in the hall.

_Well-_

Aziraphale looks around the room. His next snap removes dust and polishes the furniture. Angel throws off his cloak on the sofa, runs up the stairs, opening a couple of buttons. His fingers are lovingly guiding through the spines of the books, feeling for those that reveal hidden caches of wine. Grabbing a few bottles and a couple of glasses, he runs down the stairs, placing them on the table. He takes off his eyeglasses placing them next to the glasses.

_What else can I… Oh, right._

He chuckles softly, scattering gold glitter everywhere with another snap.

_Let's see what you say to this little plaything._

Aziraphale runs up the stairs to the shelves. Another opening stash allows him to pull out two oblong boxes with their rapiers.

_You’re not the only one who doesn’t like to wait, dear._

Сlutching the boxes to himself, he runs down the stairs. He pulls out his rapier, barely holding back his excitement. The pleasant coldness of the hilt caresses his fingers, sending light goosebumps. The swing of the weapon сuts the air. Angel freezes as he can feel the presence of that exact demon very well.

The first thing that catches demon's eyes is sparkles. Too unusual for this room.

“Is this a new feature of your practice? Or should I think about checking the closets and all the rooms?” a sensitive scent does not catch someone else's presence, therefore he simply continues to look inquiringly at the angel, coming closer. His gaze clings to the rapier in angelic hands. “Are you sure that in such a state it is worth taking out sharp toys, angel?”

“I was bored, so…” Aziraphale shrugs, imitating Crowley’s motions. “You can check the place, I have nothing to hide. A little fun never hurt anyone.”

_What did Raphael say?.. Not hints, only actions?_

“I assume that you should put that liquid on the table. I don’t want to pierce it in the heat of our... conversation. Why don't you drink that down?” he looks questioningly at Crowley. “Or maybe you are afraid of something?” angelic eyes squint as they study the facial expressions on Crowley's face. He comes closer and holds out a box with another rapier. “You know that we are alone here. I do not like to share my... desires with outsiders, as you know.”

Was Crowley afraid? No, it doesn't look like it. But the excitement in front of the almost unknown is definitely present. Mostly because one has only to think about it and it will be possible to understand how this swill will turn his mind.

“I'm _not_ afraid, but if we drink _now_ , then the rapiers will definitely have to be _hidden_.” taking the box from the angel's hand, Crowley takes out the weapon that is intended for him today, although it is not much different from the rapier that the angel is now holding. The vial finds its place on the table.

“Moreover, there is already quite enough fluid with a hard liquor in my body.” a snap sends his jacket onto the couch, leaving him in a black shirt, the sleeves of which he is now trying to roll up without letting go of the handle. “But if you want, then go ahead, half of it is definitely yours. I'll be _happy_ to see.” he bows to Aziraphale lightly, but manly.

Angel looks at the bottle for a few seconds. “Right.”

_Hidden desires? That may be interesting._

He trustingly holds out the hilt of his rapier to Crowley as he unscrews the bottle cap.

“Cheers.”

The liquid burns his throat, but at the same time a pleasant warmth spreads through the body, accelerating the pulse. Angel returns exactly half-empty vial to the table, taking a deep breath, squinting.

_What do I really want?_

He smiles and opens his eyes, taking his rapier. “En garde, mon ami.”

Nothing has really changed in the angel's saluting, but his own appearance has slightly changed imperceptibly for him.

Did Crowley have any hope that sharp objects would again be hidden in their cases? Yes, he did, but it seems that today is not his lucky day. Or may it be further entertainment? Nothing really makes a difference. He sobers up just enough to be more or less free to feel himself in space and not get too stupid scratches. Saluting, he whispers softly: “Poseur.”

But the black clothes on the angel do what they do best: distracting him and preventing him from concentrating, and judging by the angel's mood, it would still be worth it. “And what is at stake?”

“What is at stake?” Aziraphale lowers the rapier a little. “Can’t it just be... a good fight for a fight?” 

The light flickers in the room for a moment, creating more subdued lighting. Angel freezes.

“Well, this is what happens, if I think that in a more subdued light your eyes shine brighter than gold.” he swallows, for some reason taking a step back, taking a defensive position.

_What do I_ **_really_ ** _want?_

“Now, come at me.”

Crowley shrugs, also lowering the point of the rapier to the floor. “Why not? It can. Easily.”

In a few quick, for his usual pace, blinks, his vision adjusts to a new level of room illumination.

“Quite a while ..” he makes a test sweep, satisfied with the soft whistling sound of metal contact with air. “Defend yourself, angel.”

Without thinking too much, he makes a series of punches that target different points, in no particular order. One could call it sloppiness, Crowley likes the concept of "fighting style" more.

Angel deflects a few first hits. His next motions to Crowley's lunges are aimed at simply pulling the rapier away from him. He enjoys the sharp movements of the demon exactly until the moment when suddenly it becomes too hot in his chest.

_What the-_

Breathing heavily, he lunges with an unusually sharp thrust, forcing Crowley to draw the rapier in front of him. His heartbeat becomes unusually intense.

“Crowley…” his chest heaves more and more often. Angel releases the rapier and it falls to the floor with a light thud.

_What’s happening?_

He desperately wants to touch. Aziraphale gently lowers the hilt of the demon's rapier with his fingers. “You know, I really want…”

_I want to touch you. Now._

“Dear Lord.” he sharply pulls his demon to himself by the shirt. “All I have ever wanted is here and now. I want to live in eternity with you.” 

Trying not to suffocate with emotions, angel rests his hand on Crowley's chest. “I know your strength, I could not help but feel it. It has always excited me, made me admire you. I want you to be unrestrained. I need you to allow yourself to forget at least once that there are lines that can't be crossed. Take me so that I can remember. I need you to be rough, on the verge of madness, as if tomorrow never comes for us. As if we hated each other all this time, as the real enemies.” he takes a breath to continue. “I want to look in the mirror and see the scratches from your nails and the bite marks, because these reminders make me alive.”

Angel frowns as he sinks, picking up his rapier. “Sorry for asking you this. I will learn to keep these thoughts to myself.” 

He gets into a defensive stance again. His breathing is still uneven, his pupils are strikingly dilated. “Attack, damn you.”

“Someday you will stop apologizing... even if this is also primordially angelic.”

_So I attack you with the weapon, and you attack me with words._

“And I’ve heard you at the Raphael’s cabinet.” several attacks follow from the demon's side, but even those who are not versed in the art of fencing will notice that they are too lazy and can hardly do harm. Each of these false strikes is accompanied by his step. This is just a habit, part of his essence: to circle around the angel, distracting either him... or himself. 

Crowley ends the circle with a grin, another thrust aiming at the angel's shoulder. 

“You feel it, but how many times have you seen it? Not in passing, not in a state of the unconsciousness... How often have you looked into it, Aziraphale? Into _my_ Darkness?” he swings the rapier to the side of him, whistling through the air, so that he can start really attacking right away from the turn. Each blow is accurate, has its own purpose, it is hardly too dangerous, but you should stop defending yourself and you can easily get not the most pleasant scratches. Clearly not one of the kind, previously mentioned by his angel.

“I don't remember letting you do that too often... or at all. Probably this is my oversight.”

Stopping the attack, Crowley still holds the rapier ready, briefly glancing at the vial on the table. “You know, I don't even need it. Just reducing the control. That's all.”

The blow. One more. A step closer and a blow that crosses the angel's rapier, which he exposes against his chest in a defensive manner.

“Really, very simple.” 

Starting from this fulcrum, which is now the intersection of their blades, Crowley takes a step back. The force of the push makes the angel take the same step from him.

“Well..”

Nothing seems to change. Though, as usual at such moments. No matter how mortals painted such metamorphoses, everything happens much more primitive: the eyes become brighter and melted gold does not leave room for the white of the eye, the fangs become longer, but still not enough to be noticeable, one cannot see through the clothes, but the scales begin to appear on the skin in random patches. Relatively noticeable is only a dark haze, which curls around his body, now manifesting more strongly, then disappearing altogether. Nothing unusual. Outside. 

But as for feelings and emotions that are invisible to the eye... A heightened scent catches how the smell of previously drunk alcohol is mixed with a thin thread to the smell of angelic skin, in which he can almost catch sulfur. The sharpened hearing hears how uneven the angelic breath is and how much the speed of his pulse differs from the usual, when he is in a calm state. 

Crowley feels desire. And it's all because of him. Because the angel belongs to him. He wants to bite into his soft skin with his claws, rip this desire out and keep it to himself.

“ _She_ always thought you were too bright for me. Dangerous, to some extent.”

Nothing changes in his mind. He does not become bloodthirsty, does not become much more dangerous, does not lose his memory, does not change his attitudes. Darkness has always been a part of him, the control was needed only in order not to leave stains and dirt behind. Crowley always knew how to find pleasure in simple and insignificant things, because they were often the only thing that he could be content with. But here the Darkness without its leash expanded the list, still leaving simple things in it, but adding brightness to them, in the way they could be obtained.

“But now we know that this is both true and false. You are stronger, but not dangerous for us at all. However, I could never harm you. Really _hurt_. No jokes, games or anything like that.”

Fencing in this state is somewhat boring. Demon’s body reacts too harshly and clearly, and Aziraphale basically only defends himself, even if it is worth giving him his due, and very worthily. It's hard to hunt when the prey wants to be caught. His blows become more cunning, more unexpected and sharp. The essence of the serpent appears here too: sometimes he freezes, looking the angel in the eyes, before the next throw forward.

“But you're right, I can leave traces, marks. Can make you _dirty_ , Aziraphale.” The next thrust ends with a hole in the sleeve of the angel’s shirt and a bleeding scratch that is visible through it. Crowley casually throws the rapier aside, no matter where it would fall.

“It’s time to admit defeat and take off your clothes.” 

He leans over to the table to take a bottle and drink half of the liquid that is intended for him. The empty vial also goes off to the side, but none of them hears the sound of broken glass. Perhaps, it simply sunk into oblivion.

“I would say don't be afraid, but I think it's still worth a little.”

Every move of his demon is mesmerizing. The angel only defends himself, not allowing himself to be distracted. He got used to this dance for 6,000 years, but now it feels different. He is still distracted by hearing what he wants. Cries out briefly, clutching a bleeding but harmless cut.

***

_“You can’t say ‘no’.”_

_“No.”_

***

Some things do not change. Crowley's words make the angel's cheeks turn red. Aziraphale involuntarily takes a step back, staggering more, but does not lower the rapier. 

“No.” he gets into a defensive stance again. “I _will not_ give up. And I _will not_ undress.”

His skin is covered with goosebumps of anticipation. Angel swallows loudly, knowing that they are both now at the point of no return. He has nowhere to run and he will not.

“I am not afraid of you, demon.”

_Show me how much you want me._

Crowley is not quite surprised. Maybe, just a little.

“You’re not?” his gaze shifts to the tip of the rapier to immediately return to the angelic face. Standing up, he raises an eyebrow.

“So what? Are you going to attack a disarmed demon? I won't raise my rapier.”

He takes a cautious step forward, although it looks more like he is sneaking closer to the angel.

“I won.” 

One more step closer. The distance to the edge of the blade remains less and less.

“You're _not_ afraid. Well, what a brave angel. Nothing new, really. And it's not even about me, it's just that few of the angels have a sense of self-preservation in general. You don't have it in particular, Aziraphale.”

Taking one more step, Crowley extends his hand forward to run his fingertips along the edge of the blade.

“If you need your toy _so much_ in your hands, that’s fine.”

Half a step: close enough to reduce the distance so that he could lean towards the blade. Instead of fingers, the demon's tongue traverses along the metal of the blade, while he gazes into the angel's eyes.

“Take _off_ your clothes, angel. I won't ask a third time.”

Crowley's tone sends another generous dose of goosebumps. Angel obediently lowers the rapier. He really lost too long ago. Aziraphale sighs. 

“You won.” he unclenchуs his fingers, the weapon falls to the floor with a thud. Stepping back a few steps, the angel does what he is told: he takes off his shoes and undresses. When his clothes fall in a shapeless heap on the floor next to him, he embarrassedly hugs his shoulders, lowering his glance.

Demon’s mouth fills with saliva, while hunger from the sight spreads through the blood, as gradually more and more bare skin becomes... available. It is impossible to say for sure whether the drink was so stiff, or it was because of the Darkness, or some other factor affected him, but wanting his angel was the norm for him. A deviation can be considered with the warmth on his fingertips, which perfectly matches his desire to drive his claws into this inviting softness in the nearest future. 

Crowley swallows noisily as he stares at Aziraphale.

“Was it too difficult, my dove?” The room was definitely not that warm a few minutes ago. The concept of a ‘personal space’ does not make much sense now, but Crowley still violates it, shortening the distance, bursting into this metaphorical meter. Picking up the angel's chin with two fingers, he makes the angel look up at him.

“You need to stop it, Aziraphale. We both know that after all the times together, after shared desire, passion, lust, it’s a little too late to be embarrassed.”

His fingers leave the chin, their warmth is replaced by the warmth from the touch of his lips. In turn, he removes the angel's palms from his shoulders, spreading his crossed arms and moving them along his body. A hiss from the softness of skin escapes Crowley’s lips as his palms slide along the lines of Aziraphale’s forearm to his wrists. Angel's skin seems to be even softer than usual.

“Moreover, I've seen you so many times, my love, that trying to hide or cover this beautiful frame from me is also a very stupid idea. And you are not so stupid, you’re a smart one.”

The last drops of calmness evaporate in the few quick steps, when he tightly squeezes his fingers on Aziraphale's forearms, pressing him against the nearest bookcase. From the force of the push, a book falls from one of the shelves. Demon’s fingers clench harder and his nails, which now look more like claws, dig into the skin, almost percing it to blood. Crowley drowns in the blue of the angel's eyes, breathing hard and fast. Sweet angelic scent climbs through his nostrils straight into the brain, teasing filthy mind with pictures painted in red.

_Want me to lose control? Fine._

Somehow it turned out that they've found themselves in this position too often: an angel, pressed against some vertical surface, and Crowley, pressing on him. Demon buries his nose in the bend of the angel's neck, inhaling deeper, inflaming the heat within himself with this smell, sinking more and more into the lure.

“Do you know what it was like for me all these years? Waiting for you _that_ long?”

Was the liquid supposed to bring latent desires to the surface? Looks like he still has a couple.

Angel is overwhelmed with his own desires too much, but he just cannot shut up.

“I’m not a cherub, I’m an angel of…” he looks into the thirsty eyes. Next words become a gentle whisper. “Yours. You should have taken the name ‘Cassius’ because of your hungry look.”

Aziraphale chuckles softly, when Crowley breathes in deep the sweet air of his victory.

“I guess, I’m in trouble with my back’s up against the shelf…” he closes his eyes in an attempt to stay calm. “And... I had no idea, my dear boy. My feelings had to be dialed down so I could fit in with the rest of... the others. But if the part of the song was muted, it didn’t mean that the song of yours was not good enough for me. This didn’t mean that I don’t want to know the unvarnished truth. We did plenty of simple things like sharing the wine and tables at the restaurants, which were nice, bright and they... Simply brighten up dull colors of everyday life. And I’m sorry to be such a… coward.” he reaches out to place his hands on his demon's back in an awkward hug, ignoring forearm pain.

“My love, I’m really sorry to have kept you waiting.”

_Too easy. Not gonna work._

Crowley turns around, clutching angelic hands to the shelf, squeezing his wrists in the spines of the books.

“Ssshut it. These small sweet speeches of yours, they won't work. Not now.” he leans closer to the angel's face, leaving a few millimeters between their lips. “It fucking hurts. But you know it. Tell me, was it sometime, when you could feel it, feel the same?” a snake tongue runs along the contour of the angel's lips, leaving a moist shine of saliva on the skin. “This pure despair tingling inside your limbs, eager to spill outside to let yourself just a little touch. Huh... But this is only a small part of what I've felt through the ages.”

He tries to express this hungry despair through the kiss with which he torments the angel's mouth. From the strong bite the skin on the Aziraphael's lower lip is cracked open and Crowley trembles from the sensation of a hot salt on the tongue. He's not that rude, just greedy and a little cruel. To both of them.

“I think you owe me an apology. A proper one.” he touches the angel's chest with his own through each breath because of deep and frequent breathing. Aziraphael's nudity caresses his gaze. With the back of his hand, the demon touches the angel's cheek while looking at him with tenderness bordering on a thirst for possession. “It seems that this is what I desire most after having you near me, my little dove. Don't you worry, I will take care of you as you want it. I will take what is mine.”

Running his tongue over the cheek, the demon finishes the movement, circling the ear and after that, biting the earlobe. He whispers, as if trusting his most important secret to the angel.

“I will _fuck_ you properly... after a small reprimand while you suck me.”

Releasing the angel's wrists from the firm grip of his fingers, he rests his straight arms against the shelf, freeing up more space between their bodies.

“On your knees.”

_Of course it wouldn’t be so easy, you’re a demon, after all._

“I was... well... just trying to smooth things over.”

Angel is really shocked. He has forgotten the most important part: their lives were very different from the beginning of times. If he asked Crowley not to hold back... Well, now the dark side is really gonna rise. And right now angel understands that he wasn’t quite ready.

He glances on the stairs.

_I’m not as fast as him, obviously. Not a good idea. And what if I refuse? I suppose, then we wouldn’t talk for several years. That was the most silly of your ideas, angel._

He takes a short breath, kneels slowly and touches his ribs in a way of small protection. Aziraphale barely lifts his head, but his gaze is hesitant to go higher than Crowley’s belt buckle.

_Right._

He places his fingers on the belt and unbuckles it. Then goes the zipper. He looks up at Crowley’s heaving breast, while unzipping his pants. Then he finally decides to look into his demon’s eyes. Aziraphale truly hopes that his own glance still looks not so unbroken, as his voice sounds. “Order me around, tell me what to do.” he freezes while awaiting further instructions.

Crowley feels these impregnations of fear on the part of the angel. Cannot help but feel, even without using his darkness. Taking his palm from the shelf, he easily runs his fingers over the head of an angel, a gentle petting gesture, as a reassurance.

“Don't be afraid, dove. In the end, we will both like it, I promise. Just believe me.”

This view of the kneeling angel always had a strange effect on him. Now this view captivates him more than usual. It absorbs him entirely, dispelling the arousal through the each cell of the body. There are still twinkling sequins on the floor, but he does not see them focusing on the soft flickering of the Aziraphael's skin and eyes and strands of hair. More and more he feels the viscous smell of his own desire.

“Now, don't talk, because talk is cheap and the look of your face is so expensive right now.”

This is an invitation. He moves his hips forward, without taking his palm from the light wheat curls. “Now take out my cock and lick it. Slowly. Behave yourself, as if it is a dessert. You know what I'm talking about.”

Crowley’s hand in his hair comforts him. Angel smiles gently. Down on his knees, he’s confused from that old-fashioned approach. But he likes it, anyway.

“You _are_ a dessert to me, love.” he obediently releases demon’s hips from pants. It’s not a surprise that Crowley’s cock is already hard enough. Angel cannot resist to leave a light kiss on the top of it. Then he closes his eyes, opens his mouth and licks it slowly, gently pressing the tongue. His own mouth is full of saliva. He cannot hold a little whimpering, licking the cock again. “Would you mind if I give head now?”

He glances at Crowley, while continuing licking, running the full length.

“Eager, are we?”

_Just like I said._

“You look gorgeous like this, angel.” he gets harder under every touch of the angel's tongue. One more time curling his fingers in the angel's hair he withdraws his hand from it to run the pad of the index finger on the angel's cheek, erasing the wet path of precum, which flows abundantly from the tip of his prick. “So filthy. Just for me.”

His fingers are again tangled in the angel's hair, which is now a little wetter at the roots. It becomes difficult to keep the balance of his body when he tears off his other hand left on the shelves, to wrap his fingers around the shaft. With his grip in the Aziraphael's hair, he fixes his head, not allowing him to budge, while he traces the tip of his cock of the angel's swollen from the last kiss lips.

“But so many times, my love, you were so cruel to me. Never letting me in, never letting me to forget who I am, blaming me for the stuff that was just my job. Even when both of us somehow knew what all the fuss was about.” there comes hissing. “It wasss bloody torture.”

He lets his grip become loose. His position becomes more stable when he grabs the shelf to white knuckles. There is a quiet sound of cracking wood, but he doesn't pay any attention to it. “Suck me.”

Angel’s skin becomes pale, then pink, pale again and red from his demon’s words. The only thing that matters to him now is to please his associate. His tongue leaves a wide lick on Crowley’s prick. “With pleasure.” his swollen lips palm the top of the demon's cock, and the angel begins his serving. He tightly welcomes the full length, while closing his eyes.

He remembers how good Crowley is in slipping between the gear shifts. Angel caress demon’s hips and lets go out the wet cock to make a breath. “Dear, you should know. You weren’t very fast. It was just... wrong place and wrong time.”

_I adore you. No matter what you did. Please, feel it like I feel your eternal flame._

He knows that the lights were brighter a few minutes ago. Now he needs this semi-darkness to do the blow-job really properly. After all, he had the best teacher.

_And then my teacher has me._

Angel smiles to himself and swallows demon's precum. He is very encouraged to get the job done. His own arousal is hard and he’s glad that Crowley is too busy to comment how naughty his angel is - being so close to cum from a single touch while sucking his demon so selflessly.

“Weren't I?” Crowley’s fingers stroke down from the angel's hair to cup his chin, tilting his head slightly. There is enough strength in his grip to fix the angel's head with one hand by holding his jaw. “So you won't be against this?” he waits a moment longer, looking into the depth of Aziraphale's eyes, searching for something that possibly can stop him. It's not quick, but it is almost exceedingly rough the way he starts to fuck the angel's mouth, filling it whole, passing the head past the ring of muscle at the back of his throat.

“Just a little bit of indulgence for me, love.” 

There is not a moan from his side. Just a loud hissing escaping his lungs with each deep breath. The demon's lips are parted in astonishment and adoration and past this thin lips there are fangs glimmering in the dull light. 

“Ssso you are missing Heaven's orders?” Crowley’s voice is too calm despite the fact of the pleasure rumbling through every cell and muscle from the luxurious feeling of tight wet glorious depth of the angel's mouth, despite the frantic movement of his hips, moving his cock faster. “I will take care of this, angel. To see your obedience. I don't want to be your God, still don't have enough grace of her's, but I won't mind if you call me that way.”

He slams into Aziraphale’s open mouth, reaching down now with both hands and holding his head in place by the hair. Crowley twists the short curls in-between his fingers in gentle and loving motion even as his dick knocks against the back of the angel’s throat again and again.

“After all, all I ever wanted is to take care of you, my precious.” he groans as he feels Aziraphale’s warm, wet tongue drag along the underside, his throat clenching around the shaft as he deep throats. The demon's hissing changes to the growl, loud low rumble in his chest that you can hear from a pleased wild animal, as his prick grows thicker in the angel's mouth and he spends in great pulses. His head is spinning as he feels pure fire of release licking along his body, taking him apart to the smallest particles.

_You know that you are perfect._

“Take it all to the last drip.”

They both know that he will.

Angel’s rheumy eyes begin to cloud, when he understands that his demon needs several rough moves to cum. He is a creature of love, after all. Angel's swollen lips squeeze Crowley’s prick harder with a soft moan, when he feels the hot sperm fills his mouth. He swallows and opens his mouth in order to trace the pulse on the veins of his demon, gathering salty spent of his beloved. He does exactly what he has been told: not a drop will spill outside of his mouth.

Breathing heavily, he removes Crowley’s arms from his head and pulls his head back, to the shelf. “I guess, if you were a God, you could’ve chosen someone better than me.”

For the first time his face does not express anything defined. Crowley wasn’t so rude before, so he feels a bit frustrated. 

“By the way, borrowed grace does have a puny shelf life. There's a certain universal synchronicity to it all, huh.” he tries to smile, but it sucks. “Aren't you going to make some caustic remark, as usual?”

“No.” Crowley’s voice is harsh and full of heavy breathing. It is really easy for him to kneel in front of his angel, because it seems that his shaking legs are no longer functional to keep him upright. There is a possessive tenderness in his eyes, when he investigates the angel's frame with his golden gaze.

“I'm going to take care of your knees, dove, and then I will take care of you.” he traces the angel's soft middle with his claws, leaving a light pink lines behind them, ending in weightless touch along the shaft of the Aziraphael's cock. “If you let me, if you still want me to.” his fingers find their own way into the angel's hair, while he leans closer to leave a tender kiss on his cheek. “It was not a cruel lesson for you, Aziraphael. I can enjoy this in a particularly wicked way with you without all these dark attributes of mine.”

With a claw on his index finger he traces the angel's cheek, then slips it to his neck and presses the cutting edge right above the pulse point. His whisper in this form sounds in a special way, many hear such a variation with this undertones only at the moment when they sign a soul contract with Crowley. But now this whisper doesn't contain any tempting lies, it is full of pure truth. “There is no one better than you and I can be whatever you want me to be and still being myself. Not that I doubted your strength, my heaven's warrior, but can you handle it? Can you handle me in this way?” he cups the angel's chin to have a better view of his eyes. “I want to debase you, defile you, use and destroy you.”

With a slightly evil grin he noddes.

“And yes, I will find my pleasure in it and I will try to make you outburst in my hands with your satisfaction, because you are still my holy shrine.” with a fingertip, he runs along the lower lip of the angel right to the place where there was a crack recently, from which blood collects again with a crimson drop. “I want you, because you are mine. I love you, because you are mine. Do you want me to prove it to you?”

“Yes.”

This answer shouldn’t be so silent and desperate, but it is. Maybe this is all about the drink, maybe he has been silent for too long. “I didn’t know how much I needed you until you’ve gone for a century. Sometimes I think that I’m going slightly mad without you around. Desperate for your touch, close to beg you for any. You're the only one I've ever wanted. The way we make love is not so important. My... strange request… I wanted to feel your despair. To take down your barriers and let you release the unvarnished desires, because I am the reason for their existence. I want you to destroy me, reduce into atoms, but it won’t change my feelings for you.” he smiles softly. “Long-buried or even burned, they're destined to be reborn, like a phoenix rising from the ashes. Somehow we’re related in a wicked way from the very beginning. There’s just one thing I can’t stop apologizing for.” 

Angel gazes at his demon in adoration and smiles sadly. “Please, forgive me, I can't stop loving you.”

“You are going to discorporate me one day with your speeches, angel.” Crowley smiles lightly, naking his fangs. The quiet sound of a snap is accompanied by the fact that he again appears to be fully dressed, unlike his angel. “Or will make me totally nice.” he sighs. “Come here, love.”

Reaching Aziraphale, he hugs him tightly. A little bit more of a demonic strength is released to stand up with the angel in his arms like he weighs nothing and is similar to a pile of soft feathers. Crowley doesn't use a snap this time, he makes a few steps to the sofa and puts Aziraphale carefully on it. Аnother snap is used to disintegrate from the existence of all of the glitters from the floor.

“Was it necessary?”

Aziraphale always loved the way Crowley treated him. He got used to waiting for the next step in exiting, but now he is really nervous. And he cannot stop thinking about marvelous tongue and sharp fangs.

“No, not really. I just wanted to pretend that there was a party. Yes, I know, it was silly.”

Crowley sinks down on his knees with the grace of a snake. 

“Should take better care of you, dove.”

There is definitely a stinging sensation when Crowley licks the abraded skin of the angel's knees in a long wet drags of his snakish tongue. They are almost bleeding, he can feel it, the lightest trace of the holiest blood odor teasing him. Having finished with Aziraphael's knees, he does not stop. The possessive streak that has stirred inside him before is now ever vigilant. He makes a circle with his tongue around the left knee of Aziraphale to immediately slip it higher up on the inside of the thigh, while his hands persistently spread his angel's legs wider. The insatiable movements of his tongue leave moist marks on fair skin. His eyes sparkle with cunning, when for a split second he looks up at the angel's face before clutching his teeth in the softness of the thigh. This bite can hardly be called neat, fangs almost pierce the skin, leaving two marks in the semicircle of the trace, which are clearly redder than the rest of them.

The way Crowley investigates... no, tastes him, like he’s a snack, makes the angel keep his eyes open wide.

“You are... something. And everything to me.” he gasps when Crowley bites him. “What the hell did you just…”

Something in his demon’s eyes makes the angel shut up. As a creature of love, he shouldn’t be so hard and turned on from rude actions, but it seems that as a wrong angel he can afford it to himself.

“Oh, Goddess.”

His fingers clench the sheets, while he sets his teeth on edge, accustomed to whining pain.

Crowley is humming approvingly, tracing the bite mark with his tongue, ignoring the angel's question. “You are delicious.”

_And now the monster from under your bed is gonna consume you to the head._

The sofa seems not comfortable enough for him so Crowley snaps one more time moving them both upstairs right on the bed. He does not need light to look at the angel, the subdued dusk of the room is enough. For now. Still in his clothes, he saddles the angel's hips. His heavy staring has just one aim - to find the next spot. Demon leaves a hot wet mark with his tongue right on top of his angel's cheekbone.

“Want you.”

It is all about his own desire paramount. One hand grabbing the angel's blonde curls, the other roughly pinning his chest into the soft mattress under his body, Crowley pulls at the other's hair to gain access to the angel's neck.

“Need you.” he nuzzles it to find this particular place right above the vein, which is now pulsing hard. The soft lightweight kiss almost immediately becomes all lips and teeth, and tongue treatment. Possessively, with control that almost leaks through his fingers, leaving him alone with this state, he bites down finally feeling the metal taste of the blood. 

But he is not alone. Not now.

It all feels burning hot and slippery when he licks his fangs in order to gather red traces on them.

_“Ngk, fuck, angel.”_

Tracing the bite, he feels how hot the angel's skin has become in this place from the influx of blood. The bruise will be very bright. A masterpiece, more precisely, only the starting point for a future masterpiece, the canvas is still too empty, in his humble opinion.

“Do you know the legend about the naga's venom?” he smiles. Certainly not the best time for such a question, but still. “One single drop can increase the level of susceptibility of the body at times, but will turn off any resistance. I want to tell you this legend. Later, one day. Today's fairytale is mostly about dark demonic stuff.”

With his claws he runs along the line of the angel's clavicles. It is worth pressing harder and the skin will not withstand the pressure of sharp edges. “But you like it, huh?”

From the angel's collarbone, his fingers slide below, renewing the marks of scratches on the Aziraphael's chest and abdomen. With a grin, Crowley wraps his fingers around the angel's cock, tracing the head with his thumb, smearing the precum.

“Yesss, you like it.” he starts to stroke the angel's cock, light motions, but firm promising grip of his fingers. With a free hand he reaches Aziraphale's lips to try to push fingers into his mouth, pressing on them. “You better make them really wet, angel. And be quick. I become impatient looking at you.”

Both of them don’t need any air to breathe, but it has become a habit.

Now Aziraphale is almost choking just meeting Crowley’s glance. Obediently, angel licks the demon's fingers widely, moaning. “Who am I to disagree?”

He is caught up with licking phalanges, covering his eyes. Angel cannot explain to himself how he got to this point, but something tells him that he has no right to refuse.

_Looks like my personal point of no return._

Crowley’s expressions are not so sweet as he had before, but it doesn’t matter. It has never been so important. His hips flutter in excitement, even though he knows that things can really change from this moment for both of them. They had never crossed this line.

Angel opens his eyes and meets the tireless hunger in Crowley’s glance that looks for prey to run down.

“More than ever, I hope to never cross the line, where ‘enough’ is not the same it was before.”

Crowley is fascinated by the so damn lost look on Aziraphale's face. He is melting under the touch of his warm tongue, that tongue, which easily can put his loins and mind on fire. His fingers remain still near the angel's lips, while he whispers, staring without blinking on the glimmering wetness appearing on them.

“You know that sometimes…” he mumbles to correct himself. “Almost every time, I'm really careful at listening to you and watching you…” Crowley pushes his fingers harder so the phalanges are going right between the angel's lips deep in his mouth. He caresses the tongue with the pads of his fingers, moving them in and out at the same pace as his palm is stroking the angel's cock, feeling the hot flesh under it. “You've mentioned that you want me to behave with you like it is no tomorrow for us.”

Finally, he is satisfied with the wet layer of saliva, covering his fingers so he withdraws them and lets himself have another heavy gaze on the body under him. He doesn't need a snap this time. Unleashed darkness mixed with his predator desires makes a powerful mixture of his, eager to serve the master's purposes, strength. It takes only the wave of his hand to move the angel's body to put him on his elbows and knees. Aziraphale can easily resist him, if only he wants to. Already shirtless, Crowley presses his bare chest against the angel's back, while his wet fingers easily slide into the hollow between the buttocks, immediately circling the tight puckering hole with gentle moves. He leans in to bite the angel's earlobe hard. Starting to cover Aziraphael's shoulders with bite marks and bruises from his sucking kisses, the demon presses two slick fingers into the angel's hole. A groan is ripped from his chest as he feels how the tight walls immediately suck up his fingers. With a quick jerks of his wrist he starts to open up the angel.

“So you have fucking eternity with me, all belonging to the serpent's lair.”

Without stopping the movement of his wrist, stretching the taut muscles more, he grabs the left buttock with his free hand, clutching his claws to draw them down over it, leaving long bleeding scratches. Red and white, that are the colors of his painting. His mouth comes off the spine of Aziraphale only for the split seconds that he needs to move to the place where he has not yet managed to leave his mark. Poking his nose in ephemeral fluff at the base of the grey their wings, he takes a deep breath, enjoying the scent.

“What an honor for me, dove.”

Angel becomes one sensitive nerve. His fingers tighten the sheets to the white knuckles, while soft moans release his chest.

“It is my... pleasure... to serve you…” he hooks himself on Crowley’s fingers, squeezing them. His dick is bloodshot from unreleased desire. It is almost painful and at the same time it makes him completely honest. “I cannot imagine how much pain has cracked your soul... but I think I can try... to understand you... eager to get any touch of mine... I can feel it every time when you’re taking care of me... ignoring my own leaking desire…”

He breathes heavily while continuing. 

“You cannot deny... we both knew that when our duties are canceled, you’d be the one to get all of me... and I’d owe everything to you... I would make you whole…”

He can feel the heavy drops of his pleasure dripping off the head of his prick.

“Crowley, I belong to you.”

“Yeah, you quite do, not the hot news, sweetheart.” 

Snarling, Crowley with a miracle lubes up his now aching, hard cock, his demonic refractory period even faster than normal at the feeling of the velvety walls squeezing his fingers, at the scent of an aroused body in front of him.

“Can't wait for you any longer, not one single second.”

Unusually, he doesn't snap away his trousers, just unzips them like humans do, but the sound of the zip is lost in his hissing when he takes his fingers out. Standing up on his knees, finding the best position behind the angel, the demon lines up his dick, pushing inside with several severe thrusts, reaching the full depth.

“Mine.” 

He hisses once he is buried at the hilt, leaving one more bite at the angel's back. Then he growls, as the pure and instinctive beast, unleashed inside him, rages in his chest almost howling in pleasure, as he gets to claim what is his once again. He feels like a hot copper wire and the angel is still soft like a plush stuffed toy, which is quite accurate as he is actually quite stuffed right now, as Crowley pulls almost all the way out and sinks back into his arse with a hard thrust. Clasping an angel across his chest with a ring from the demon's hands, Crowley raises a supple body, pressing the angel's back in his chest. Their mixed sweat clearly falls into the traces of bites and abrasions. Under his pressure, the angel's knees glide over the fabric of the bedspread, causing Aziraphael to grind back more on his cock. His lips are again too close to the angel's ear. Perfect.

“No mirrors for today, love. No need for you to watch, just feel it.”

Maybe now it’s better not to watch for both of them. In such a position it is difficult to achieve a wide range of motion, but the strength of his thrusts is quite enough. So he thrusts into his angel with renewed speed and strength, burying himself so exquisitely deep into Aziraphale, slamming hard against his prostate. Crowley is a snarling mess. His eyes are mere gold slits, fangs sinking into every inch of creamy skin he can reach. One of his hands gripping Aziraphale’s soft waist possessively, leaving pinkish traces of his claws and the other one reaching down to tug on the angel's cock, milking it in-between his thrusts into the angel's hole.

“You can cum whenever you want it to happen, but that won't mean that I'm done with you. We've played this game recently, impress me this time, dove.”

Crowley’s traces watering by their mixed moisture. They are stingy, that kinda helps Aziraphale to stay calm, not to become a whimpering mess. But when his demon’s chest is pressed to his back, angel’s skin sets on fire.

“So pleased... to please you…”

His own pleasure is pulsing hard in the demon's fist.

“Oh, Crowley... you got pure love on your fingertips... but there’s so much lust... on the tip of your tongue…”

Angel closes his eyes. It's like something is on the tip of his own tongue, and he doesn't know how to trigger it.

_Maybe I should let myself loose._

“Tell me.. did you know I would be the... losing side... you knew we would be here one day…”

Breathing heavily, the angel tightens up the Crowley's prick. His self-control says fast ‘good luck’ and disappears after several groans behind his back.

“I hate to say it... but I go down... ah... so easy... and your dick... is so perfect... yes, just like that…”

_Oh, Goddess!_

_“_ If this is a sin... then it’s... definitely... the lovely one…” he bites his lover lip with a moan. “Worth it... worth every scratch... every bite of yours... I don’t care about the color of sheets... if they’re black or white... all I care is the way you want to have me deeper than you could... and couldn’t get... that was my point... and that was what I’ve been afraid for so long... that when you’ll have me... all of me... there will be no place for me nowhere... I could die without _Her_ blessing... that was all I thought about, Crowley…”

He moans louder, bending over.

“You followed my scent, I’ve been following your smile... all of your flaws are aligned with this mood of mine… take all of my holiness, if you need…”

_Not now, angel, you can’t lose so fast this time._

“Oh, Goddess... the way you hurt me… _fuck me harder_ , please.”

“As you are asking so _nicely_.”

Crowley is powerless to resist. The demon doesn't exactly let the angel's body go. Letting the gripping Aziraphale's chest hand to move away from the bruised and scratched skin, he lets the angel's body fall down oh his elbows, for a short moment before he grabs the blonde curls in his fist and pulls hard, causing the angel to bend in the back closer to him once again. Having noticed a piece of skin on the angel's neck on which there are no marks, he quickly corrects this misconception, leaving a hickey.

“And _we_ are winning. Both of us. Right fucking now. Don't tell me you are not feeling it.”

The tight grip in the angel's hair starts to get loose, letting his head to fall forward, face right in the cover under him. Crowley also removes his palm from the angel's cock, immediately missing the feeling of hard hot, pulsing under his touch, flesh. His both hands taking hold of Aziraphael's buttocks, squeezing, digging his claws in. Sensations how those pierces the skin, how heat spreads around them from the flowing blood, causing Crowley to hiss for a long time. He is the demon of his word, after all, and with the changed position he is having the angel as they both want it, which at the moment means hard, fast and relentless, fucking in earnest.

“And nobody calls a sin _lovely_ . I'm going to sin all over you and this wouldn't be _lovely_ , but this view of my cock buried deep inside your gorgeous tight all bouncing for me ass is actually _lovely_.”

Every time the word ‘lovely’ is accentuated with the sharper thrust of his hips quickly snapping forward, the slapping sound of skin against skin ringing in the large room. As if he is trying to knock this word out of existence this way.

“I don't need your holiness, Aziraphael. I need you. Near me, under me, above me, inside of me, everywhere of me and on me.”

Something has flown apart inside him and all he cares about is the sensation around his prick, the sticky itchy heat all over his skin, Aziraphale soft and moaning beneath him, his, all his.

“And you know, I've changed my mind.”

On the next thrust he brings his head down, hot breath ghosting over Aziraphale's ear. In a low voice he orders. “Сum. Now.”

As the short order was given with a rough move of the demon's hips and ghosting breath right into his sensitive ear, the angel felt a lightning running down his spine, making him place his hand on his prick.

“Shouldn’t work this way... or it actually should?...”

Aziraphale closes his eyes. He barely has any time to agree. Angel's body slavishly follows the given instructions after several thrusts of demon’s hips against his ass.

After a pulsing ‘ _yes_ ’ and ‘ _Crowley_ ’ slip out, he collapses into the feeling of belonging, pouring his seed on the soft sheets. Aziraphale’s fingers let go his prick and join the other hand, which is already fitfully teasing the fabric while the demon continues his owning.

In spite of all those ‘ _too fast_ ’ and ‘ _no_ ’ through the ages, the only thoughts angel has right now are ‘ _faster_ ’ and ‘ _more_ ’. 

And just like Crowley said before, he has no keen sense of self-preservation. Even now, being immersed into post-climax pulsation, he chuckles.

“The way... you fuck me... is so... _lovely_.”

“You bastard. _Fucking tease._ ”

Feeling the hot post-orgasmic pulsation of the angel's body around his cock, Crowley leans forward, burning with his hot breath the place between Aziraphael's shoulder blades, which surprisingly does not bear a single noticeable mark of his lips or teeth. There are only light touches and hot breath stirring the ephemeral feathers and fluff that tickles his cheeks. In this place he whispers his confession, in some way ruining his dark appearance simultaneously making it only stronger.

“Divine.”

He is completely sober from any kind of alcohol or drug from the hellish mixture they've both shared, but he is totally drunk from his pleasure and the stirring feeling of satisfaction in his guts. The need, the desire, the eagerness to possess - they were real and they are even more real now, coming into existence with each drag of his body along the angel's.

_Did this drink really work or it is all about... this?_

Crowley sinks himself down to his full length, pushing in as far as physically possible. He rolls his hips, twisting them with quick jerking movements which lead him to his own orgasm. The heat in his body overflows, coiling and uncoiling like a scales down his spine, chest and arms in agonizing ecstasy rotating through his muscles, fueled by the _oh_ , so welcomed, tight bursts of pleasure in his pelvis, down his abdomen, into his balls and up and out. It is all about pure waves of heat, fire and lava. He leaves long red, full with droplets of blood, traces of scratches on Aziraphael's ribs. There are sparks glowing in white circles under his closed now eyelids and the moan somehow mixed with hissing and strangled growl as he fills up the angel's ass, feeling his own seed sink into the skin, spilling from the sides and dribbling down cause of his continuing thrusts. With a heavy breathing he grins, face is still pressed into the angel's spine.

“Didn't I fuck you up enough to cum untouched?.. Pity. My fault. Will fix it next time.”

With a wave of his hand he cleans all the mess under them, leaving the residue of the sperm inside the angel. He draws back, quickly moving the angel under him on his back and shoves his prick again deep into the welcoming hole hissing in the oversenstiveness.

“Ssspeaking of which.”

Snake's nature is still his thing: the base of his dick inside the angel starting to grow slightly.

“Shhh, before you ask. It's a knot, my knot.” 

The appalled look on the angel's face is so satisfying.

“Keeps my spend inside you and it's gonna keep you on me for quite some time, I suppose. You can try to move away from it, but it will be... rather difficult.”

With a snuggly smile he whispers right into the angel's parted in the shock lips. “You make me whole, and I will make you full.”

Angel breathes heavily and answers intermittently. 

“Mostly dark demonic stuff. Cheating, aren’t you, my beloved serpent? We both know, the way you hold me is always... so sweet…” he softly moans, feeling the heat.

“You forgot about wily, so yes, cheating... kinda.”

Crowley starts to move his hips in a small almost teasing jerks already getting harder under the power of wet heat around him. “And it's just a precaution. You will…”

_You need to-_

“...try to run away as soon you will realize how many marks I've left and how almost half of them are bleeding. I will wait for my reprimand after that.”

Demon leans in to lick the nearest scratches, which are located just above the chest of the angel, four short but deep enough strips from under the pen of his claws.

“My masterpiece.”

With the knot deep inside the angel's hole there are no many ways he can move to take him again, but the small movements of his hips, desperately trying to sink his dick further, more deep, are enough to set up the sparkles of renewed pleasure down his spine.

“Mine and only mine.”

The burning heat of possessiveness, created by the booze, is faded out almost completely, leaving warm welcoming flames of the thirst to claim. He gazes up at the angel, enraptured by the flicker of expressions moving across his own face. Pleasure, desire, awe… all because of Aziraphale. Still it was the claiming. Slow now, almost delicate, but his claws are still sharp and his fangs are still eager to pierce down, brightened by the colors of his marks, skin. His words are soft, but touches are tough, mirroring his desire to dissolve into the angel's grace. Each move, each sentence makes him closer to the deep down fall into the spiral of the heady release.

“I need your scent. The taste of you. Each and every noise you elicit with every touch.” he locks the angel into a bruising kiss before settling him back in his arms contentedly, possessively. His breath is a warm wave caressing the angel's bruised neck, while he never stops his thrusts.

“You’re mine to command, I'm yours to follow.”

Crowley moans when their mouths get reunited into the kiss which has meaning behind it, the only meaning both of them are aware of. They always do, but now it comes in bold letters. Care, protection, devotion, possession, lust, passion, love. His pulse deepens to a dull roar in his ears, as he looks at the angel so serene in this almost unconscious state.

“Oh, dear.”

Aziraphale is lost in the kaleidoscope of so many feelings. They almost make him cry in pleasure. He’s surprised that he is still conscious. “Haven’t you noticed... I was running straight... always in a straight line... running back to you.”

He will take everything, no matter what it would be like - hard, aching or even permanent.

Angel clearly remembers that even being discorporated, all that he wanted was to find Crowley. No matter what was going to happen with his angelic ass after that.

It’s getting really hard to breath, even if he doesn’t need it, old habits die hard. He arches his back, with a balancing mind at the edge of pain, desire, possession, love and sense of any reality. His fingers find their place on Crowley’s face, when he frames it with his hands.

“You mean a whole world to me. You _are_ my world, dear.” he moans in his demon’s lips, before continuing. “Fuck me harder... cum for me... I want to feel your heat deep inside, because that is what makes sense... the only thing that makes me feel alive.”

Patience is a virtue, they said. 

Bullshit. 

It doesn't matter if it is an order, request or plea. Crowley is happy to comply, as it's quite easy to obey. Still limited in the wideness of his movements, he takes advantage of their strength and speed. Thrusting with a rush into the angel, he moves back almost completely, getting out the knot, tearing the tight, welcomly taking his dick, muscles apart, which definitely, if happened, will set Aziraphale in pain. He rests his forehead on the bruised shoulder, lathing his lips on the skin like icing on a cake.

“Sublime.”

The heat of his shaking breath covers and warms the angel's skin even more. In a protective (read: ‘quite obsessed with the idea of the belonging both of them to each other’) gesture, he pins the angel to the bed with all of his weight, keeping Aziraphale's arms right above the elbow in his tight grip, adding more history paths of this mess, which totally drives him to being insane after it will end, if it will end. With each thrust he feels how the leaking angel's cock marks the skin of them both with pearl drops of precum. He drags his hand down his angel's chest, claws ripping open, oozing cuts in his skin right above the others.

There are several seconds, so it feels to him, and he lets it all go. He can't see anything, he can't feel anything other than the angel's softness, hardness, how tight he is and how the marks, that Crowley has left, are slightly warmer than his marble skin. With hiccupping jerks of his hips and a hiss of pure rapture, morphing into an uncontrollable internal roar, he cums deep inside the angel, making him more filled with his seed, as he promised. Demon feels the give of the bedding cloth tearing beneath his fingers, when he finally sets the angel's arms free, and the irises of his eyes glow and grow until it’s all white and he’s on fire, possibly literally. And all he can manage now, is a whisper, even more muted, as he speaks into the column of Aziraphael's neck. 

“Let it go, love…”

***

Maybe every angel wants to be lost and found. Aziraphale doesn’t quite remember why he liked the rules. But he did love them. Until war, Eden and _their_ meeting on the Wall. He lied to the Almighty, as he wanted to save humanity. This could be what people call white lies. But he also knew that it won’t be so easy for him to stay in a place where he could do nothing. And see no one.

_I really don’t mind seeing him again. Maybe next time I will make a joke…_

But he didn’t.

_Well, you could slip and tell an off-color joke, Aziraphale._

But his jokes were... just fine. Enough to make Crowley to grin.

_What do you exactly want from him, angel?_

He didn’t know. Maybe it was a hug, or soft handshake. As a creature of love and Heaven’s ‘dove’, he wasn’t interested in lust or desire. But he found himself wondering if Crowley's ever had any interest in simple touches.

And sometimes he caught himself thinking that he was getting a little sick of his own holiness. 

Aziraphale began to present light touches. Not to the skin, but to the demon's clothes, making little blessings. He knew they wouldn't hurt his associate. And he almost gave up, when Crowley saved his books. While the demon was driving him to the bookshop in silence, angel thought about taking off Crowley’s hat and placing them both on the sofa for a... 

_Cup of tea? That’s what people call it?_

“Would you like to…”

“No.”

_He doesn’t want me, does he?_

“Please, angel, take care.”

He gazed at Crowley. There was nothing but softness in the demon's smile.

_Too dangerous to stay with me for the two of us. Right._

He didn't want to lose this connection. And he was kinda upset looking at Crowley talking to that pretty-boy calling himself sergeant Shadwell.

_Is that what you really want, Crowley?_

If only he would see them going out together, maybe it would be more easy to forget about his own embarrassment.

_“I don’t deal with people,”_ he said to himself shaking hands with witchfinder Shadwell.

_“I don’t deal with demon Crowley,”_ he said to himself, accepting an outstretched hand, making a deal.

“I don’t even like you.”

_That’s ridiculous, because-_

“You do.”

_I won’t give my feelings to you. It will destroy me. Even if it is an Apocalypse in all its glory, that’s not like I am ready to die._

“Crowley, come up with something! Or I…”

_What would I do without you? How can I live without knowing that you’re fine?_

“...or I’ll never... talk to you... again.”

_You could be strong for the both of us, couldn’t you, my beloved enemy?_

***

The angelic body is dinging with pleasure and hurts from marks. He is more than ready to follow the request. Grabbing Crowley’s hair, hooking himself on demon’s prick.

This time is different. Something hot is rising in his chest and coming above. He screams in pleasure, cumming after several moves of his hips, letting himself go. He finally understands what it is. A bright halo lights up their darkness. Angel thinks for a moment before placing one hand to his halo. It’s warm, as always. And compliant. Aziraphale places his halo with one hand above the demon, smiling kinda insanely, hugging tightly.

“Be like you always were - not sorry about anything. I forgive you.”

The halo should be blinding for Crowley, but it is the softest light, setting glares deep inside the gold of his eyes. It should be painful, this pure holiness in this particular physical form, but instead it covers the crown of his head with the appealing warmth. There was a long time ago when he felt so close to heaven's grace.

_Well, not shocking that you are my God._

No one can see them here, but still he covers both of them with the grey shield of his wings. The light from the halo reflects from the smoothness of feathers, making the space between them filled with not hurting the eyes brightness.

“This feels kinda wrong. At least for me, as for the creature of darkness.”

His snakish tongue comes above his dry now thin lips in the desperate attempt to moisturize them. He grins with this one, accurately his demonic.

“Don't regret your forgiveness later, my beloved cherub.” Crowley leans his head, in a humble gesture. “Take it back, angel. It suits you better, dove. Matches your eyes.”

_This is so odd._

The heat of the residual pleasure covers his mind, not letting him to think about his own halo. Broken, greased with darkness, sharing only the dull light around his head. Not even close to this perfection right above his head, but not his. Can he summon it? Worth it trying? Best not to think about this right now. He inhales sharply, relaxing under the cover of the scents around him. Blood, sperm, arousal, wet bed cloth under them, holy sweet heat of Aziraphale, a little bit of brimstone of his own, shared sweat and cells. That is his anchor, his leash and his freedom combined.

Mercy for his mind.

“Don't want to let you go.”

He is still inside the angel, feeling the wetness of his seed around his cock, really not willing to leave this pliant soft body, to come back to reality, just to come back.

_Does it have to end? Can it last?_

“Can you see me going somewhere, love?”

With the snap of his fingers, angel vaporizes his halo. 

“I didn’t want to embarrass you... or something…” he makes a soft moan, stretching his back a little, taking a deep breath. It helps to speak louder. “Before you’ll say something, it’s fine. I’m fine, we’re fine. And you are incredible, huh.” he smiles gently, practicing nose-nuzzling. “And I bet you’re tired.”

Ignoring the burning and stinging of his skin, he is obviously worrying more about his partner.

“I know I told you about a week outside of our apartment, but... I guess that it wasn’t affected to... you.” he tightens the demon's prick, making the seed inside of him flow out on the sheets.

“Worth it.”

Even with this languor spreading along his limbs Crowley can't say that he is really tired. He grins while his tongue draws a wet line over the angel's nose bridge.

“Not sooo tired.”

A quiet rustle of feathers accompanies his movement, when he, having cleaned them, the mess and the bed with the next lazy wave of his hand, settles down at the side of the angel, not hiding his wings, but only comfortably arranging them behind his back.

“I'm not going anywhere or we will break the ‘flat's rule’.”

He adds quotation marks with his fingers, which are in the next moment occupied with a warm wet piece of cloth.

“Taking care, remember. I'm not done with you. So try to be still or I will tie you.”

Still naked, he sits between his angel's spread legs and begins to carefully trace, starting from the chest, each bleeding mark, erasing blood drops. Crowley from yesterday would have been pleased, but still felt guilt and a bit of indignation, that version of the demon that does not hold back the darkness, that beast, as mortals would say about his current appearance, this one is just more than satisfied and proud. Maybe this time the guilt will come later... or never.

“The flat’s rule? Crowley, seriously?”

Angel chuckles softly, while Crowley is taking care of his skin. He’s really trying his best to stay still, but angel’s body is not so obedient: hips twitch from every touch of wet cloth to the bleeding cuts.

“Hope you’re not going to…”

_What?_

Aziraphale blushes immediately, when he understands that his body is enjoying this burning care. His prick becomes hard. Too fast for him, but he’s still about the power of that strange booze. Right now he is not sure what exactly exited him: the phrase about tying him up or these touches of demon’s marks.

“I’m sorry, I guess... I’m a little hypersensitive…” he gives his demon a concerned look. “Don’t you dare, you foul fiend, or I will…”

He freezes with his open mouth, without making any sound, when his back arches, eager to get more touches.

“No need to apologize, angel.”

He stops, resting his hand, in which the tissue is still clamped, against the angel's belly. Bowing his head to his shoulder, Crowley slyly looks at Aziraphael.

“I have no plans, but…”

He does not need to look down, to look away from his angel's face in order to ascertain his... condition. The sweet smell of another's arousal sends light goosebumps down his neck. It is a little bit difficult to control his own interest, but to cover it with an illusion, in the dull light of the room, is very easy. Smiling, playing modesty, he again continues to wipe the marks of scratches, covering carefully along the deepest one, which is located just below the angel’s chest where he's held him.

“I can take care of that, too. If you ask me _nicely_.”

Gently tracing the cleaned wound with the fingertips, he adds a little quieter.

“Or I can find out what form your threats will take.”

Aziraphale closes his eyes, right when Crowley starts talking. It doesn’t help. He still wants to be taken.

_When did we exactly get... so dark?_

He takes a deep breath before asking... different.

“Did you like it?”

He rises on his elbows, watching his demon.

“I bet you did. As much as I did. And you know, what’s funny... I had so many dreams where I took you to the club to snuggle up closer, but none of them come true. Because I didn’t want you to see my despair. That was wrong. Not because we were an angel and a demon. Now we’re grey, but I thought that I would definitely lose you when you’ll see that... that I’m just…” he makes a wave of one hand. “...like any human. When you saved me in France, I talked to one man. He was funny and drunk. I asked him for advice. He told me to repeat after him. And it made sense. _‘Je suis ce que je fuis’_ , that was the phrase. I _follow_ what I _run_ away from. My own contradiction. We both saw that tension between us. I swear, I didn’t know what it was like for you. Forgive me, but... if only I knew what any of my words or glance would do to you... I wouldn’t stop it. I wouldn’t stop teasing you. That was the only thing that made me feel alive. And he also said: _‘C'est le bien qui fait mal... quand tu aimes’_.”

Angel smiles, while wet drips of tears cross his cheeks.

“The good makes you feel pain, when you’re in love. But now I feel poisoned without it. I need you so much, but I just... we can’t be like this forever. No one could. No one. That's why I am so scared. That's why I continue to run away and come back to you. I am nothing without you around, you are everything to me. When I feel your marks, I know, that I’m not dreaming.”

He closes his eyes, putting himself back to the sheets.

“ _For fuck’s sake_ , that was really hard to confess.”

Crowley catches the wet traces of tears with his fingertips, first on the right cheek and then on the other one, leaving the skin after his touches dry. Silently. Conversations like this, conversations, when words should produce deep feelings, this type of conversations are not for him, not now. They are not for the lustful dark creature obsessed ~~in love~~ with this only one matched with him creature of pure light and love. Still in silence he sits next to the angel, gently moving him on his front with a lightweight grip of his fingers on his covered in marks shoulders.

“I need to take care of your back.”

Comes in a harsh whisper, not arrogant, not denying, just closed and stiffened more than usual (like it is really typical for Crowley to be open, even in his usual state, yeah, one hundred percent). He is still silent, when he starts to wipe the skin in long slow and caring motions. It takes him exactly three swipes of the wet cloth on the skin from the shoulder line to the end of the spine, when he starts to talk.

“I liked it. More than you can even try to imagine.”

There are fewer marks and traces on the back, but Crowley processes them with special care, delaying the moment when he will have to look Aziraphale in the eye.

“And you, me, _we_ can do whatever we fucking want. We are not an angel and a demon now, we are something more, something new. And no one will stop us. We don't have any rules and limitations, except a couple of ‘important’ ones.” he freezes, glancing down into the dark depths of the room. “So maybe, just maybe, we need to start to live as we want? Sounds simple, don't you think?”

With a snap, the wet cloth, partly covered in blood, disappears from his fingers. He does not turn the angel's body back, just lays down next to him, so that his eyes are opposite to the dark blue eyes of Aziraphale. One more time his wing serves him as a shield to protectively cover the angel's body, even when he is the only so called danger for him now. His tempting whisper is as alluring as the soft glitter of the gold of his gaze, which he notices in the depths of the angel's eyes.

“I'm bound to you. Is it a blessing or curse - you can decide later, right? It is unbreakable, irreversible, impossible, but here we are. I don't need more of your apologies. Recently I've taken one from a perfect mouth of yours.” he presses on the lower lip of an angel with a pad of his thumb. “That is enough. So stop it. You can do whatever you want, whatever you need. I will always be near. It doesn't matter if we have a minute or eternity. I will follow you, and will look after you forever, because this is what I _want_.”

During this speech he doesn't use names or his so beloved pet names, dragged down with some kind of positive anger, if anger even could be positive, but as a final statement he uses the most descriptive one.

“Do you understand, love?”

_Whatever we want?.. Whatever we need?.._

Being too perceptive, angel is fascinated with the movements, eager to touch his one and only love. Aziraphale’s tongue shows for a short moment to lick the thumb of the demon's finger.

“I want you. Now.”

This day could be listed as one of these days when this angel actually did what he exactly wanted.

His dry lips and hot tongue take a journey from the tip of demon’s fingers to his forearm. A free palm in a proprietary gesture finds its place on the demon's scruff of the neck to pull him closer for a passionate kiss. He is careless, giving no attention to the fangs, cutting his lips. The metal taste of his own blood only makes him to lick his lips before they continue their way down. Aziraphale places the demon's palm on the scruff of his own neck, when he gently bites demon’s nipples in turn, causing a low hissing. With a short snap he tucks his demon on the bed and appears between his spreaded legs.

“So nice of you to welcome me like that.” 

His tongue makes a wide lick from the base of the demon's mostly relaxed prick to it’s top. 

“I adore when you’re getting hard for me, wishing to have me in any possible way.” 

The tip of his tongue gently presses on Crowley’s testicles, bypassing them. 

“I want to taste your pleasure.” 

He sucks in turn demon’s testicles, releasing them with a low moan. 

“I want you to flow for me, because of me. I want to see your despair to cum.”

Angel doesn’t need any additional snap, because now his thoughts are material. Two fingers with extra lube gently circle the tight ring of muscles.

“I suppose, you can be a good boy? Just for me?” 

Aziraphale presses with the tip of his fingers, immersing them into the tight warmth. 

“Oh yes, you can.”

While his fingers are busy with their study, angel’s tongue lavishly licks demon’s prick before sucking the top of it with a moan of approval.

Crowley can catch a cool, metallic taste of barely noticeable trace of blood on his lips, when he licks them, looking at the angel between his legs. Usually none of them is in charge, but today, today he is the ‘chief’ and he is not going to give up this not a right, but a privilege, so easily. Even if the heat from Aziraphale's tongue together with the feeling of cool lubrication at the edges of his hole is confusing and causes the blood to flow clearly in the opposite direction from his brain. He decides to leave the way his angel addresses him unnoticeable.

“Want to see me desperate, my love?”

He rises, settling on his elbows, watching with curiosity the angel's tongue gliding along his flesh. His face expresses almost indifference when his body betrays him more and more with every second. From the sensation of a warm, wet touch, his dick hardens noticeably, making the picture in front of his eyes full. At his back he can feel the itching rustle of his feathers.

“Make me.”

_All right._

“Crowley, you really are the most obstinate, ridiculous... glory of a demon.” his fingers don’t stop motion, while he continues his speech. “You said that to my face. That you don’t need me. And now, look at yourself.”

Angel’s hand gently squeezes the demon's prick.

“More than happy to see me on my knees. But now it’s my turn to show you what I’m made of.” 

Aziraphale’s fingers leave the heat of Crowley’s body, while he straightens himself.

“I don’t need Gods or Goddesses, Crowley. I'm an essence that believes in one simple divinity. The only one that can give me a really great bang for a change.” he snaps with his fingers to show the halo. “And you were right: there’s no going back for me. Or for _her_.”

The shape of his body changes for a while to show Fell - his female form. Angel starts to play with her nipples.

“I don’t have to make you cum, darling. But if you ask _nicely_.” she leans to his face, smiling. “You’ve spent plenty of time touching yourself while thinking about one exact angel. Now your body is more than happy to betray you. I also should stop playing innocence.”

Her nails outline the demon's ribs, while she chuckles. “My rebellious fallen _angel_.”

Aziraphale gives Crowley his most charming smile, taking up his own halo with fingers.

“I'll make sure you come out of this without a scratch.”

The halo makes a cracking noise. Angel throws away half of it.

“Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing, darling.” he slowly licks the remaining part of his halo, keeps looking at his demon. “You’ll get what you want, because I love _to obey_.”

Aziraphale places the warm part of his halo near the demon's dick and makes it to frame the base.

“I will make you cum hard enough to remember.”

With a snap of his fingers, halo squeezes Crowley’s prick.

"You’re so adorable with this confused look. I loved it on the Wall and I like it now.”

Angel places his palms on Crowley’s hips.

“It’s just a matter of time when you’ll be begging for my mercy, dear boy.”

_“Obscene”_

The whole scene turning in front of him can be mostly described with this one word. He is more confused that he ever can possibly be. But still Crowley has a role to perform tonight and he should fulfill it, even knowing that he will end up in a whimpering mess. The question is for how long can he last, for how long he will be able to resist this feeling of bliss, before falling, this time into the angel's hands. He can deal with it. At least for the closest minutes from this exact moment.

“Sometimes you can be so annoying, dove. All of this talking. But I like it. It hardens my... patience.”

His deep breath still gives a shiver as he exhales, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. Lowering his gaze to his cock, he smirks, studying a very peculiar ring, that tightly grips the base of it, blocking access to the blood and most importantly other fluids.

“Doesn't seems the appropriate way to use your halo as a sex toy, honey.”

The thought rushes somewhere in the back of the consciousness, that the angel would hardly have been so careless if the process of converting a halo into an erection ring was irreversible, but it is only given by a wrinkle between his briefly shifted eyebrows.

“Why don't you stay as Fell? You know that this shell is somewhat weaker towards her. We can have a really good time if I treat her right. It's a pity that such tricks will not work with Ash.”

His gaze tosses somewhat lost between the face of Aziraphale and the surrealistic picture of a softly shimmering halo on his cock. He should stop being stubborn, but he can never stop in time. He can feel these shivers of anticipation as each word slips from his mouth. Crowley has no certainty that what is happening now is real, but even if it doesn’t, he is sure that the angel will not easily dismiss what he said. No water off a duck's back for him.

“As I said, I have an eternity. Try me.”

“Annoying? Me?” Aziraphale smiles softly. “Don’t be so delusional.”

He leaves a light touch of his fingerprints on the demon's prick, gliding to the top of it.

“Jealous…”

He gathers the precum, in order to put his fingers in his mouth with a moan of approval.

“Self-destructive.”

Angel reaches to Cowley’s cheek, carefully contouring the jawline. “I thought your weakness was only me, not my outer shell. It is not snug to my skeletal system or to my soul, so it should have no difference for you.”

Aziraphale gives him a smirk before leaning towards his prick.

“We both know that it would be cheating, dear. And I want to have you. If you become _her_ , I will use the other half of halo in a more inappropriate way.”

His fingers caress demon’s spread hips before his tongue leaves wide licks on them.

“You’ll take my cock in any body of yours and I will make you cry in pleasure, because the wily old serpent gets what he wants. And you’ve always wanted to make some trouble.” he leaves a wide leak on the demon's butthole. “I _am_ your trouble for the rest of your immortal life.”

His wet with the lube fingers gently circling the hole, before he dips his fingers into the heat, sucking demons testicles. Angel is silent just for a few minutes, before he adds. “But if you want double trouble…”

He wasn’t actually sure how it works. His body begins to glow brighter before he performs this exact miracle. It’s kinda weird for Aziraphale to look at Fell, placing herself behind his demon in a short hug. 

She puts their demon’s head on her breasts, removing away from his face wet strands and ends angel’s phrase. “...this can be arranged.” 

Her fingers gently caress the demon's chest, while angel takes Crowley’s prick on its full length, sucking it hard. It’s easy for him to speak with Fell’s help, so she starts. “You’ve been so patient, love. You really are a demon of word, a man of devotion.” her hands are slowly stroking the demon's forearms. “So strong and handsome. Aziraphale, don’t you think that we are the unworthy objects of this gentleman's adoration?”

Angel stops sucking demon’s prick and smiles at her. His fingers are still busy with stretching Crowley’s hole. “Сan we understand the exultation of wanting and the recognition that the object of such desires is forever unavailable? Unknowable at its core, forbidden to touch.”

Fell nods. “But he could be a demon, if he wanted.”

They smile at each other, when a low hissing fills the room. Angel looks at marks on Fell’s body. “You think he could?”

She smiles and shakes her pretty head. “He wouldn’t do this to us. Even today he wasn’t rude enough.”

Angel smiles in return, nodding. “Yes, dear. I suppose so, too. But it doesn’t matter now. All that matters is that we should take care of him properly.”

Fell puts the strands behind Crowley’s ear. “Still want to be stubborn, love?”

Aziraphale sucks Crowley’s prick again, his fingers realigning to his mouth’s rhythm.

“Isn’t your angel good enough? Look at him, trying so hard to please you. And look at these adorable marks of yours all over his body. I have them, too. That kind of disloyalty stings for more than just a couple hours. I’m not sure we can let you go so fast. Hope you’re comfortable enough.”

Fell gently bites his earlobe. “Close your eyes, leave all thoughts of the world you knew before. Let your darker side give in, take the fall into the loving arms of mine and his, because you could never choose one. You have weaknesses for the both of us.”

“Didn't know that _you_ could perform _this_.”

_Insane._

This is the second word which comes to Crowley’s mind. This is all insane and he will be left insane after what is happening, if he will survive all of that. He melts under the words of the pray, wrapped into the melodic voice of the angel behind his back, with the truth slipping from her mouth.

_Bastards._

“Yes.”

He whispers, covering his eyes, mostly not because Fell has said so, just to have a spare moment to cooperate with himself, to try and find strength to resist the softest temptation, that he ever had a chance to see. He drowns in this softness, radiating from both of them. Shifting his head to rest it more onto Fell's breasts, he grabs her hand from his chest to move it closer to his mouth, so he can leave an accurate kiss on her caressing fingers. His core is struggling to relax, to disappear in this pleasure. It is torturous.

“Fucking get on with it, will you.”

Moving his hips forward, eager to feel more, to be filled more, he hisses trying to put his words into the order, but he fails, as a moan escapes his lungs. His lips are dry and licking them is not helping at all, as his open mouth is so willing to say ‘please’. It doesn't matter that he wants this. That the very thought of being taken like this makes him even harder, even if it is almost impossible, as his dick is now a dangerous red color so close to bursting as his whole body is overwhelmed with rolling pleasure seeking its release, but never able to find one as the main path is blocked.

“Tease. Fucking tease, both of you.”

Again hissing whispers, but certainly everyone in the room has heard it clearly. He (impressively) doesn't whine and he (questionable) will not whine. Crowley seals his mouth like a licked envelope and scowls in the general direction of the so-called hand that refuses to give. Soft torture, nice temptation. It kills him. His darkness, his very essence resists with the whole strength, not letting him to give up. Not now, even with the slide-tug of fingertips inside him, the wet gift of a tongue and loving mouth on him, the softness of the skin around him. He can accept to himself only that he wants this to be soft, but the demon, which he is now, needs it to be hard. The soft will be quite useful after, when his scales will no longer be heated by the internal fire of his satisfaction, when his skin will be cold from the residual sweat as an aftermath, when he will be drained of all his fire, hell and darkness. He inhales deeply, finding last bits of his power to make his voice not so pleading.

“Angel, just... fuck me already.”

Fell whispers quietly, but the three of them will definitely hear it. “We will, darling.”

Aziraphale releases the demon's prick. His fingers slide out of the heat.

Fell smiles and snaps with her fingers twice. The first snap creates something that is similar to the mountains of pillows behind the demon's back. The second snap lets her appear on Crowley’s hips, when Aziraphale starts to talk. “You know, that’s quite... unusual feeling. Both of us want you, both of us want to see that you are satisfied.”

Fell nods. “But if you won’t relax, that would be awfully hard for you, dear.”

Aziraphale chuckles softly, hugging her from the back. “I guess we should say ‘thank you’ to your dear brother, shouldn’t we?” he gently strokes Fell’s shoulders, before his palms cover her breasts. “I didn’t know that my breasts are so soft in this body.”

Fell chuckles softly. “Maybe you want to investigate the possibilities?”

She lies on the demon's chest, setting up her chin on her palms, looking closely at Crowley.

Aziraphale caresses her buttocks before giving them a short slap. She moans ‘angel’ and looks at Aziraphale with disapproval.

He sighs. “Honey, I know, that you want harder, but I’m not _him_.”

She smiles at him and kisses Crowley’s chest.

Aziraphale continues. “Your mischievous ass is so firm. I bet your wet tight honey pot is longing for our dear demon. Should I make you an effort, or you will do this by yourself?”

Fell sits up on the demon's hips. “Dear, don’t you think it will be more interesting for him to look at us for a bit more? I could... well…” she bites her lover lip. “Suck you for a while. And then you could take me while I would take him. What do you think?

Aziraphale raises his brows. “I think, dear, he could be jealous. That’s not a good idea.”

Fell nods. “Right, dove. We should work together.”

Aziraphale snaps with his fingers, creating a pillow under Crowley’s hips. Fell slides down the demon's hips, rubbing his prick. Their actions completely synchronized: Aziraphale directs his prick into the demon's bumhole while Fell sits on Crowley’s dick with a soft moan.

“Aziraphale, he is so…”

Angel smiles. “Hot. I know, dear. And so fucking _tight_.” he moves with his hips faster, thrusting himself into the heat of Crowley’s body. “And you know, he likes to watch, dear.”

She moans and leans on Aziraphale’s chest with her back. “Be gentle, honey.”

He chuckles. “Of course, I will.” he strokes her breasts in a caressing way. “Your nipples are so adorably hard and tender.”

While one of his palms is busy with her breast, the other one comes down to her vulva.

“How nice that you can suck him back up instead of me.”

Angel begins to stimulate her clit, moving his hips slower, almost sneaking out of the heat and coming back.

Fell moans and pulls angel’s hair. “You like it, right? When he pulls you like this.”

Aziraphale moans. “I love it.”

Fell squeezes demon’s prick, smiling at Crowley, talking to Aziraphale. “We should bang him hard, dear. When do we have a chance like this?”

Aziraphale chuckles. “You’re such a naughty girl.”

Fell smiles at him. “And I got the best demon with the most adorable prick, pulsing so perfectly inside of me. You love it too, don’t you, dove?”

Angel moans. “I do. I adore when he takes me and makes me cry in pleasure.”

They both look at their demon with adoration, moving faster, filling the room with the melodic moans.

“I'm glad that you've stopped talking like I'm not here and finally get to business.”

_I should tape it. Missed the opportunity._

He's almost floating, teared apart by the sensations. The first combined movements of the heaven's creatures are like the concussion. If the passion can be pure as a virgin, so they are the example. They take him away by their vision. He can't even let himself reach out and touch. Doesn't want to ruin this. They destroy all of his defenses at the moment he starts to really feel the soft wet welcoming heat around his cock and the thrusting pulsating hardness into his arse assaulting him mercilessly, sending lightening strikes of pleasure through him. His abdomen is tensed as a bowstring in order to not let him move his hips, desperately thrusting, trying to catch the flames of satisfaction and release. It seems he doesn't remember how to speak, so he chokes his moans out, because once released they will be transformed into the whines. His dick is aching, but it all hurts so beautifully.

_This is unfair._

Crowley knows that there are no more creatures in the room, doesn't matter from up or down stairs, but he distinctly feels how the tender fingers are caressing his forehead in an attempt to wipe the drops of sweat away from it.

**_But maybe you've deserved it. Look at them, covered in your marks. So brutal, Crowley. Claws, really?_ **

_Ssshut up._

Ash, his female form, separated mind, is not welcomed now, even in the form of an internal voice.

**_Give them what they want, they are far more than they earn. Such a waste of marble skin. There are more ways to leave a mark._ **

_Then go on, step out and teach them. I will see what they do to you._

The image of the half of the halo, penetrating his dripping cunt in the female form, makes his body shudder from the next wave of desire rupturing his muscles and cells. Still it is unidentifiable whose reaction it is.

**_Nah, sweety, it's your battle, it's all your fault. Deal with it. Drown yourself in it. Take it as they can fulfill your hunger, cause they're right, you keep holding on._ **

_Fuck you, Ash._

**_We’ll see, maybe I will take your body from this battlefield and we will produce something for the angel. And now be strong and say it. You are a big boy, you can make it._ **

_Fine._

The last thought becomes real, as he speaks up with a shivered exhale. “Fine. Fuck. Damn it!” Crowley gasps, his thighs trembling with more than just desire. “Angel, let me fucking come, take this bloody thing off. I'm burning.”

Among the sounds of moans, slaps and frictions from skin touching skin, prays, it can be heard these tiny notes of embarrassing falsetto leaving the demon's now cracked open from heavy breaths and bites lips.

“I'm begging.”

His claws are ripping the cloth under his hands as he arches his back under the weight of a boiling hot wire which now replaces his spine.

**_Let them ruin you and then assemble you from the atoms._ **

“Please.”

Angels stop their moves immediately. Fell leans on his chest and circles his jawline.

“Oh, sweetheart.” she smiles softly, licking the drops of sweat from his chin, moving to his cheek, biting his earlobe. “We won’t let you cum so fast. Now you should calm down, dear.”

She releases his prick, rubbing her cunt to his stomach. Aziraphale also leaves his body. They lie next to him, clinging and squeezing his dick simultaneously. Fell glances at angel.

“What should we do, Aziraphale? He's such a good boy, look at how obedient he is. He didn’t move while we were taking him.” she presses the top of his licking prick, gathering the precum. “So adorable.”

Aziraphale slowly licks the tattoo of a snake on his temple. “I don’t know, peach. It will be very painful for him to cum now in this state.”

She nods and they begin to glow, sending the waves of calm over the demon's body, comforting him. His prick is still pulsing in their hands, but they know that now it doesn’t hurt so much.

Fell’s fingers gently caress his testicles, while she whispers. “There you are, darling.”

Aziraphale kisses his cheek, rubbing with his nose. “Much better, right?”

They give him nearly five minutes of slow petting, whispering in turn words of adoration. Then angels help him to sit and press his back to the flowery bedside. Fell snaps with her fingers and floral patterns fix the demon's wrists.

“You deserve so much more, don’t you, darling?” she kisses him on the forehead, removing the wet locks aside. Then she sits in front of his spreaded legs on her knees, while Aziraphale hugs her from the back.

“We should reward him, Az.”

Aziraphale thoughtfully touches her stomach. “You think so?”

One of his palms gliding up to her breast, squeezing it, while the other one covers her cunt, before his fingers penetrate deeper.

“Aziraphale.” Fell moans softly, arching her back. Her cheeks are burning in red while she shyly looks at Crowley, burying her fingers in angel’s soft curls.

“What is it, peach?” Aziraphale purres in reply, gently biting her earlobe, looking at the demon's leaking cock. “I think he likes the view. Look at how _hard_ he is.”

His fingers release her body in order to make her lay down with lifted hips. Angel places his cock between her buttocks, squeezing them, while looking at his demon.

“It’s not going according to plan, right, Crowley?” he smiles and moves his hips, rubbing his prick. “But I think Fell couldn’t stay for more.”

She laughs in reply. “Right you are, honey. The show is all yours.”

Aziraphale snaps with his fingers making her disappear.

“Just the two of us.” he reaches with his hand to cup the demon's chin. “I am terribly sorry, but I can’t wait for a moment longer, love.”

Angel grabs demon’s hips, slowly immersing his prick into the tight heat, helping Crowley to wrap his legs around his waist.

“I was going to fuck you in every corner of this room, making you forget your name. But I won’t, because you deserve so much more.”

He starts to move his hips, hitting demon’s prostate with slow deep thrusts.

“You know what is really flaming like anything?” he chuckles softly, licking the demon's dry lips. “My entire existence, when I see how you move your hips.”

Aziraphale snaps with his fingers, changing Crowley's position, making him bend in his back. Demon’s knees are sliding on the sheets, while angel is caressing his buttocks.

“The view is so remarkable.” he squeezes the demon's buttock with one hand and slowly penetrates his dick into the heat, while the other hand gently strokes Crowley's prick.

“And now you should serve me, my dear.” he freezes and snaps with his fingers, releasing the demon's cock from his small halo. The floral patterns let go of the demon's wrists, making him lose his support point for a bit. Angel strokes Crowley’s hips, while he bites demon’s earlobe and whispers:

“Don’t be shy, love. Go on, treat yourself. I want to see how you cum for me.” he intercepts his demon’s chest with one hand, while another squeezes Crowley's prick. 

“Fuck yourself on me. Now.”

If Crowley had a soul, it would have long gone out of this mortal shell, from the inability to cope and accept what is happening. He hardly realizes that Fell is no longer by his side, resting his still wet forehead on the same wet fabric of a bedsheets under him. It seems that he is very close to loss of consciousness, or rather, the shell is close: demons are hardly inherent in this.

“I will destroy you. Later.”

It sounds muffled, as he does not raise his head, feeling droplets of saliva falling from his opened lips. But everyone understands that this is hardly a threat. To Aziraphale, this is generally a promise. 

The tickling feeling in the corners of the eyes only gets stronger when the blood held back by the ring finally finds its way. Crowley hisses, trembling with his whole body, trying to breathe deeper, but the chest squeezed by desire and arousal does not yield and does not diverge wider, no matter how his lungs try. The hot pain fills him with renewed vigor, forcing him to squint and bite his lips as he moves his hips forward, slipping off the angel's cock, but more importantly, feeding his own to a tight ring of his beloved fingers. Maybe he should be embarrassed by how close he is already, but the last few hours were so much for his demonic stamina. Aziraphale has him weak. He strains against Aziraphale’s grip and arches his back, head tilted backward as far as the flexibility of his neck will allow.

First thrust, slow and demanding.

Second thrust. There is definitely a sob, but they will never speak about it. Pleasure coursing through him, weaving through his veins, spreading like wildfire as Aziraphale tightens his grip around the shaft.

More, he needs just a little bit more.

'N' thrust, less than a minute after the second one, at this point, Crowley is an incoherent babbling mess, a litany of dulled almost quiet and weak moans and swear words of different languages falling from his lips like leaves in fall. Each thrust makes him hotter, plays with his ragged breathing, leaves a deep crescent-shaped indents on the base of his hands as he clenches them into fists, but it just feels final and resolute, the perfect culmination of a back-and-forth dance spanning the recent times and events.

And at one moment it is too much.

Crowley cums suddenly and hard, streaking his stomach and the bedding and the angel's fingers, tasting salt and blood as he sinks his teeth into the lower lip, choking his moan. Сontinuously shuddering, he gasps desperately, teared apart by wave after wave of relieved tension. The tensed shivers of orgasm leave him with a weakness as he falls hard on the bed with his chest heaving, and his knees are so weak he nearly slides them wider at the bedsheets but he manages to stay somehow. Crowley’s face is one more time pressed to the bed as he never stops whispering the angel's name right before the moment he dozes out.

“Such a good boy.”

Aziraphale smiles and slides off the demon's butthole. Cleaning their mess with a wave, he gently picks up the demon's chest, helping his beloved demon to roll onto his back, while Crowley continues whispering his name with closed eyes.

“You’ve already destroyed me, remember?”

Angel lies down next to the demon. His fingers slowly caress the demon’s chest, enjoying the fast heartbeat.

“When you’re gone from Heaven and slid off that wall in Eden, leaving me with confusion. Sneaking around for 6000 years in order to ask for the thing that will destroy you completely, blindsided me with your assurance, made me so mad. You’ve said that you didn’t need me and then appeared like a knight in shining black armor with your firm grin, shook me to the core.”

Angel frowns, sending light waves of calm in order to make Crowley’s breathing more deep and slow. His wings are now opening as a good duvet to cover his lover.

“I guess there are no victories in all our histories. I walked a lonely mile in the moonlight, and though a million stars were shining, my heart was lost in distant thoughts whirling around the memories of you in an arc of sadness. I’m so lost without you. While everyone kept saying that you hold the keys to ruin everything I saw, every footstep I took was back to you, after you. Here, in your arms, the world is impossibly still.”

Angel rubs his nose against the demon's cheek, leaving a soft kiss on his parted lips and whispering in them like if it was a confession, but both of them already knew that it was only an affirmation.

“I, Aziraphale, the knight of the grey knighthood, am in love with the ineffable asshole, the grey knight Crowley.”

Angel chuckles softly.

“Still don’t know your last name. Is it really ‘Crowley’?”

He wearily lowers his head on the demon's chest, closes his eyes and falls asleep.

“I’m mad about you.” Aziraphale whispers and lets himself drift away with the sleep, bringing calmness to his tired body, hugging his demon with a quiet rustle of his feathers.

**Author's Note:**

> you are more than a soulmate, more than beloved


End file.
